No More Heroes: Endless Struggle
by CaptainBlackMarrow
Summary: An old dead legend must return for a new fight.
1. Chapter 1: Struggle

More Heroes: Endless Struggle

"TRAVIS TOUCHDOWN...!"

A sound breaks me from my sleep. It was a sound that had become way too familiar to

me. The sound of some dipshit yelling my name from outside my trailer. As if I hadn't decided to

go on my extended vacation for a reason. Just another idiot trying to make a quick buck by

ripping off my shtick probably.

"...GET OUT HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!"

Its been ten years since I hacked and slashed my way up the ranks and became the

number one assassin. Long time right? And ever since, assholes like this guy haven't let me

forget it. It's been one fight after another for what seems like forever. Back home I couldn't get

rid of these guys. Santa Destroy may have been a cesspool but it was my cesspool. And after

the whole assassin thing got popular? Well. You know what happens to things that get too

popular...

"HEY! I can hear you monologuing in there! No one wants to hear you recaping your

whole life story! They want a fight! NOW GET OUT HERE AND GIVE ME ONE!"

Ripping me off and interrupting me? I've killed motherfuckers for less. Now I had to see

this guy.

I kick in the side door to reveal some Undertaker looking dude staring at me with hate in

his eyes. Guy had long black hair and a trench coat to match. Looked like the poster child for

suicide prevention. He was carrying one of those big fuckoff assult rifles. Gun guys bore me to

tears. They're always way too serious.

"You have no idea," he said in a low, gravelly voice he must have thought was scary.

"Alright, you've got my attention. So who the FUCK are you!?"

"Who I am is not important. But you… are Travis Touchdown. The name rings out across

the world as a beacon to all those that kill for pleasure. I hate all things. Even killers. You will be

my greatest challenge."

He draws his weapon and I draw mine. A flash of light cuts the darkness of night as I cut

through bullets. His mistake was coming at me all cocky. Who did this guy think he was? Not

important, huh? Well I couldn't agree more.

SLASH

One stroke. That's all it took. A geyser of blood erupted from the stump where Mr. Not

Important's head used to be. What? Expecting more? Come on. You must not know me. Or

have you not been paying attention? Low Lifes like this guy show up on my doorstep every day.

The real question was who was going to have to clean this shit up.

"Huuuuuhhh…..I'll leave it for the morning."

I sat back down in my gaming chair.

This had become my routine. No. My endless struggle. It's been so long since this all

started. I really can't remember what my life was like before this. Had I had a life before this?

Gotta find the exit. All the killing. All the battles. Gotta find the exit. How were there still more

opponents out there? Gotta find the exit.

"You still don't get it. There is no exit. I tried to tell you, but the young never listen do they?"

And there he was, sitting in the darkest corner of the room. Same as the first time I saw

him. Death Metal. How long had I been seeing these visions of the dead? I couldn't remember

that either. I didn't answer.

"Oh, you can't ignore me, boy. I'm inside your head. The one place you can't escape."

"Shut up old man. I ain't Ichigo and you ain't Obi-Wan. I dont fucking talk to ghosts."

"Hehehe…. Still as crude as ever. Time hasn't made you any whittier has it Travis? Even

now you still don't know how high the wall is."

"Well you could have just told me instead of being cryptic about it."

"I suppose. But if you didn't want this cycle of endless violence you should never have

bothered. Are you tired? How tired will you be next year? Or the year after that? How long can

you go on?"

Fuck. I came out to this forest to be left alone. Now not even the silence of a clear mind

was possible. It was like playing on nightmare mode.

"Is this really all it takes to break you Travis?" said a calm, airy female voice. Death

Metal wasn't the only ghost that had taken up residence in my head. There, standing just

outside my vision was Holly Summers.

"The man who beat me must have more fight in him than this. You cannot run from the

choices you have made. The path for the killer is only forward or downward," she said.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I got plenty fight left. I just need to… rest my eyes a bit."

"Rest...?" came a third and final voice as syrupy as it was venomous. But this one was

different. The words were heavy and haggard. The figure just behind me.

"You don't actually think you get to sleep do you? Fucking pussy. I can't believe you

actually killed me. It's embarrassing," she said. This voice pissed me off the most.

"Hey! If you're gonna hang around the least you could be is a friendly ghost!"

"You want friends? Go join a fucking Baseball team. But that shit can't satisfy someone

like you, can it? You can't get off unless the prize is gallons of blood."

"Ok, but..."

"COME ON…!" She grabbed both my shoulders with blood stained hands. They felt so

real. I look up in my chair. Starring over me was the bloody face of Bad Girl. The second ranked

assassin.

"...I didn't come back from the dead to watch you jerk off and play retro games for eight

years. Now stop wasting everyone's time and get back to work! It's time to kill, not time to kill

time!"

"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

"Ok. Christ, I'll come back later."

A new voice breaks my trance. One I hadn't heard until recently. I swing my chair

around to make sure I was right. In the door frame stood a dark skinned girl in a darker black

suit. A head of big silver hair and a sword at her hip. How many cameos were in this thing? It

was…

"Shinobu!? But you're not even dead!"

"Not the last time I checked," she said in a mocking tone. "Are you okay? You were kinda

talking to yourself there. Which wouldn't normally be weird for you except that I think it was to

someone else."

"Yeah, I'm good. Unless you're here to kill me too."

"Not this time. Actually I'm here to give you this. A new contract was just issued." She

hands me a sealed yellow envelope.

"I'm not taking jobs right now."

"Yeah, I know. Everyone knows. Don't you at least want to know who issued it and why?"

"It's always the same shit. Mob revenge and corporate takeovers."

"Would you stop whining and just open the stupid thing so I can go? It's cold out here."

"Fine, alright. Hey, shouldn't you be nicer to me? I thought you were in love with me or

something."

"Heh…Please, Travis. You're cool and all. But that was like… eight years ago."

"Whatever." As I unseal the folder I couldn't help but feel a distinct dread. I never could

have guessed who the target could be. I had been out of the loop for a while but this was

crazier than I could have imagined.

"Sylvia?!"

"Yeah. It was issued by the UAA just yesterday."

"The UAA is after Sylvia? I knew I was gone awhile but…. why?"

"No one knows yet. But whatever she did they want her bad. They're offering 5 million to

the one who finds her first."

"Five million LB$s to kill Sylvia? That's insane."

"Look, everyone is going to be after this one. I just thought you should know."

"Thanks."

"I know you made it out and all, and I hate to say it but… things were more fun when you were

around." she said before taking her leave.

"Well would you look at that. Things just got interesting again. So what's it gonna be

hero? You gonna go save the princess?"

"This shit doesn't make any sense. Why Sylvia? Why now? You know what? I'm sick of

not knowing what the hell is going on. I'm gonna find Sylvia before any of those amateurs, and

get all the answers."


	2. Chapter 2: Strike Back!

No More Heroes: Endless Struggle ch.2

Some days I think people don't get me. Like they think I'm one note or something, ya

know? People think I'm either this ultimate badass assassin, or just some bumbling dipshit

who's got no clue. They look at me and see a contradiction. The loser and the number one. The

otaku and the assassin. The lame guy, the cool guy. What people never think about is that the

truth is never really one or the other. Binary things are boring. If I was only a badass or only a

loser it'd be too predictable. I hate those dark types that never change or learn.

That's not what i'm about. It's why I gotta let my guard down every once in a while.

If I never made a mistake I'd never change. That's why I love wrestling. Those guys are

always changing. It helps keep you coming up with new techniques. Some people don't like

when things change, but who fuckin cares? I ain't out here to impress anybody but me.

Someone told me that a story of failure is worth more than gold. I don't know about that, but

Sometimes ya gotta just go for it, right? Fuck the consequences. Other wise you never get

anything done.

That's why I came out here. To this quiet peaceful place. I had to get away from all

That bullshit. It was gettin stale. At least it was peaceful until everyone in the world found out

where I am. If I stay here any longer even this place will get stale. Peace was nice while it

lasted. But it's time to start something new. Take what I've learned on a new quest.

"Are you done? Did you get all that out of your system?" said Jeane.

"Hey! I'm trying to tell a story here."

"No. You're being self indulgent."

"Self indulgence is what this is all about. This isn't a game, ya know? We're in a whole

new medium. We gotta have some setup and pontification if we're gonna keep people

interested."

"I guess you're right. But that dickhead from chapter one was right about one thing. No

one is reading this to hear you monologue to yourself. They want to see some action. So

let's get this show on the road!"

"Heh….. you said it, partner."

Packing up after a long trip is always the worst. Getting everything together is annoying

enough. But there's just something sad about it. Like you're going through all those memories

all at once. I shove like a hundred T-shirts into one of my duffel bags. Put out the campfire, and

hitch up the trailer. Of coarse Jeane helped out by lounging around and critiquing my prose.

But I guess you can't expect much more from a cat.

"Hey?! Don't talk shit about cats! It's not like I'm gonna make fun of everything you say.

That would just get annoying."

"If you say so."

And yeah. Jeane can talk. And no. I don't feel like explaining why. Just think of it as one

of those changes. Besides, who wouldn't want a talking cat?

"Probably asshole dog people."

"Huh…. maybe so?"

"Besides, what would you do if I wasn't here, huh? Go back to talking to ghosts?"

"Yeah. I kinda hope that shit doesn't start coming back. That was just way too weird

for me."

"At least it was good for fan service."

"Screw that. I don't need to bring back the dead to keep things interesting. At least not

anymore."

Speaking of bringing back the dead, I made sure to pack up the Death Drive in my other

bag. I had a lot of fun with that thing. A device so unique had to be preserved. Be a shame to

lose something like that.

It had been a little while since my unwanted guests had left my campsite and I was

ready to do the same. There's a whole new world of fighters out there. Whole new legends had

been written in the time I'd been gone. And I want to meet every one of em.

The morning sun rises on a long road as I fire up the engines. Santa Destroy was a long

ways away. No more time to waste. LETS GO!


	3. Chapter 3: Ride to Hell

No More Heroes: Endless Struggle ch.3

I hate long drives. They fill me with a sense of anticipation I can't break until it's over.

Every new stretch of road, every mile clocked, bending time against you a little more.

Jeane and I were reaching the end of our journey. We had covered over a thousand miles

from Texas on through Arizona. Just a normal, simple drive. But as we crossed over into

California something changed. My boring drive was over.

A new sense of tension I couldn't ignore was begging to build. It was something in the

air. Something deeper than instinct started to shout at me again, like a muscle I'd forgotten

about. It was still 200 miles from here to Santa Destroy. I just couldn't shake the feeling that

something was about to go down. But for now, it was still peaceful. All I could do was try to

enjoy the ride with my companion at my side.

"I'm bored Travis. Turn on the radio."

The little cat lying idle in the passenger seat had a point. I needed something to take

my mind off the tension building in the back of my neck. Sweat tunes are a drives best friend.

A familiar low level "Rerrrrrrrrvvvv" comes on as I turn the dial. I get a feeling of nostalgia

from the radio. But I always forget about one thing.

 _In a world of violence and uncertainty don't you want_

 _the peace of mind of knowing your enemies are properly_

 _slaughtered? Protect your property properly with_

 _combat securities._

 _At Santa Destroy University we're dedicated to training_

 _our students for a fighting chance in a brutal job market._

 _Our graduates leave with the knowledge they'll need_

 _to take on the futu…..Rerrrrrvvv_

 _...Macro-Tech Industries, bringing the future into_

 _our control._

"Damn commercials." Finally I arrive at a station with some tunes. It was this killer

punk rock station. One of my favorite songs was playing too.

 _(Authors note: The song is actually "No More Heroes" by the Stranglers. Just for fun.)_

"Hey, dont interupt me muther fucker. Let the audience hear whatever they want."

( _Authors note: Sorry. Last time._ )

Anyway, I was finally getting into it. I was getting pumped. All the possibilities were

starting to get to me. If I didn't get some action soon I was gonna blow.

"Be careful what you wish for Travis. We've still got a long way to go. There'll be

plenty of time for cool action then."

"I guess so, but…"

Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something I couldn't help but

find dangerous. A biker was trailing me by about a quarter of a mile. No big deal right?

Well. Something was off to me. After a few miles there was another, then another. By the

time I was reaching for the Blood Berry there was like 9 of the fuckers. And they were ready to

go.

 **SMASH!**

They started breaking the windows of the trailer. Whatever they wanted they

weren't askin nice. But that's cool. I know how this mini game works.

 **Swerrrrrrrrrrrr**

I jackknife the wheel and smack right into one of em. And these aren't the types

to wear helmets either. "You want it, you can get it?! Jeane, you might want to hold on

tight!"

"Don't worry. Nothing bad happens to cute mascot characters. I don't know

about you though."

"Damn it." I rip the wheel back to the right taking out another biker. This was

getting serious. Didn't they know this was a rental?

 **BANG!**

They were getting serious too. The shotguns were out now and they were aiming

for the wheels. As I smash the gas, all these questions race through my brain. Who

were these guys? Were they trying to steal the Death Drive? Did they know who I was,

or did I just get lucky? No time to think though.

 **BANG!**

"Fuck, I hate gun guys!"

I could hear the sound of medal and shredded tire making contact with the

pavement. My steering was starting to get out of hand. And what was worse? The

assholes have gotten wise to my ramming trick. I guess story goons are a little smarter

than the average game goon. Who knew?

 **BANG!**

This was bad. This wasn't some kinda Twisted Metal type rocket truck with

machine guns or some shit. I'm a sword guy. I like a fight with a bit of elegance, you

know? If I didn't come up with a plan my journey was over. At least on my bike I could

go Road Rash on dudes.

 **BANG!**

This thing wasn't built for speed. They were catching up to the drivers side

window. Only one chance. I make one more swerve to shake them off, and gun it.

I push this thing to the limit. Till it screamed at me for I do it. I swerve

hard to the left. Till I tail fish the mutherfucker. Till I feel it tip. Time slows down. I

make my move.

I grabbed my nearest duffel bag. This was desperate as hell. I made a break

for it out the drivers side window. As I leap through the air I can see them wiz by.

Behind me I could hear the tail tell sound of screeching tires and then…

 **BANG**

 **CRASHHHHHHH**

 **SMASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

As I land right on my feet, in a hero pose of coarse, three of em crash right into

the bottom of the trailer. Even more were skidding along the ground. My plan worked.

I don't have to plan a whole lot most of the time. Maybe I'm good at it?

Before I could answer that, it was back on. One of them was speeding at me,

long ass chain swinging over his head. Too easy. He swings. I slip right under.

SLASH!

Done. The next one pulls out a handgun and starts screamin at the top of his

lungs. You know how it goes.

 **BANG!**

CUT

 **BANG!**

SLIP

DODGE ROLL

LEAP

SLASH!

Right down the middle. People wonder why anyone would use a sword when you

could have a gun. Come on, dude. It all depends on your skill. Truth is. Most gun guys got no

class. Every once in a while you meet a genuine gunslinger. Like that old man from ten

years ago. Not too many of those guys around anymore.

Just one left. There's always just one left.

"Well damn. Wasn't expectin this type of opposition. Fancy moves ya got

there, partner."

Ahhh man, here we go.

"A lot a death for just one man. You're somethin special, I'll give ya that.

Hold on, could it…...Travis Touchdown?"

"That right. I'm afraid you picked the wrong guy to rob."

"It would seen so. But seein as how you killed my whole crew, its lucky I

can still make up for it by ridin home with your head strapped to the front ah my bike."

"Heh." This guy was somethin. Now that I could get a good look at him believe it

or not I actually could tell who he was. His biker vest had a patch that read "Hell Riders".

I heard of these guys. Just not anything too impressive. They were an outfit from back in

Texas. Thieves and drug runners. Typical shit. But there was something about this guy.

He had a simple style. Rocker hair, plain T, jeans, vest jacket, and…...dog tags?

A soldier maybe? I've heard a lot of soldiers come back messed up. I sympathize with that.

He has this look in his eyes. That warrior look.

I'll admit I liked his style. "Well, I've heard all that before. Tell ya what Mr. 1%.

Just to keep things interesting I'll let you make the first move.

"Tehhh… I'll make you regret the hell outta that Mr. 1st rank."

He draws for the machete he had on his back. Blade in his right hand, and sawed

off in the other, he takes his shot.

 **BANG!**

I dodge left, and charge. But before I can close the distance…..

 **Clrrrrrrrrrrshshshshs….**.

A Molotov?! An inferno raged between us, splitting the battlefield.

 **BANG!**

Dodge.

"Damn it." I was getting excited. This guy had some tricks. I needed to clear the

gap fast. Otherwise, he just might clip me.

"Kinda slow for number 1, huh? Maybe all the stories were just a bad joke."

Asshole. He had a point though. After all this time I still had somethin to prove.

I had to show these upstarts who the king really was. And I had a new technique I'd

been dying to try out.

As he reloads I prepare. I dig deep into my Tiger Force. The mysterious power

thats always driven me.

CLICK!

Before he could take his next shot I lung forward. Closing the distance in almost an

instant. Cutting through fire itself.

DIRECT HIT!

The katana glides through his midsection like butter.

"Guaaaghhhhhhhhhh….Shit…...You got me….."

"Sorry pal, guess you were all style, no technique."

"Damn. I really thought I had you."

"Don't worry. Take your ride to hell. Maybe we'll meet there someday. Train up,

and challenge me again."

With that, he falls to the ground. Usually when I take out an enemy, everything slows

down. It's like the whole world stops to watch me. But this… This was….off. Something didn't

feel right. Did something happen to the world? Had the world of warriors changed? Or had I?

Whatever. I hadn't had anytime to worry about that as I looked back at the wreckage. Then it

hit me.

"Wait a minute…..oh shit. JEANE?! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAN!"

"I'm right here."

"Huhhhh? Oh man. You had me goin there."

"Its like I said. Only a scumbag would kill a cute mascot. Besides, we have a

bigger problem, remember?"

I had. I just didn't want to think about it. My whole life. Everything I'd built for my

self over the last 8 years was in that trailer. Id only had a second to grab one of my duffel

bags. But which one? I felt a tension as I opened the bag get released. It was the Death

Drive, the Death Glove, and all the games id collected on my journey. Some things are worth

preserving.

"At least there's that."

"I'm glad you saved your expensive toys, but we're still in the middle of the desert."

"I know… I know." Id had the Schleper Tiger hitched up to the bag of the trailer. Actually

I could still see it there. A little bent outta shape but…...

"Maybe we can still get it." said Jeane. "I saw a gas station a few miles back. I think it

even had a repair shop…"

 **BOOOOOMMMM!**

"Huhhh… People still hitchhike right?"

"Just start walkin cat."

And that was that. Just an old otaka assassin and his talking cat friend. On an old desert

road a hundred and fifty miles from home.

After a couple of miles I was really starting to sympathize with that biker. This was

hell. And like an idiot id made the mistake of wearing my favorite black jacket. You know. The

one with the badass Tiger Skull on the back? That one. So with a jacket and heavy bag on my

shoulder I walked. All the while telling myself that I'd been through worse before. Sure didn't feel

like it. I was beginning to look for a way out. But barely anyone is out on these roads, and the

ones who are aren't too friendly.

Eventually I could hear a car coming somewhere back down the road. When it started

slowing down I was reaching for my katana. You never know who could be coming after you.

Especially when you're a guy like me. When the car came to a full stop next to me I stopped

walking. If this was gonna go down, so be it.

I couldn't see who it was through dark tinted windows. It was one of those fast looking

silver sports cars. The type rich dickbags seem to like. Who was this guy? As the window rolls

down I tense up, but the man in the driver's seat only raised more questions. It was none other

than the smug face of one Sir Henry Muther Fucker.

"A decent introduction Travis. Glad to see ya haven't picked up too many new words in

all this time.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Want? I don't want anythin. I was just mindin my own business, takin a fine summers

drive like any good upstandin citizen when I happened to come across a scene of utter

destruction. A massive pile of smolderin motor vehicles and a heap a bodies to go along with

em. And I think to me self, who on Earth could be responsibly for such carnage? Come to find

my answer shambin down the road. An unfortunate sight indeed."

"Yeah, thanks for the re-cap. Now if ya down mind."

"Oh come on Travis, no need to be stubborn. It's not everyday ya get the chance for a

family reunion, right?"

He trailed me as I walked. The last thing I wanted to do was exchange barbes with this

smug asshole right now. I've always prefered to play things solo. Who wants to share their story

with a bunch of bit players, huh? The old me would have let the dude drive right on by. But as I

stared off into the long road ahead of me, and down at the furry creature tailing me at my feet I

had to admit my limits.

"Alright, fuck it."

"There ya go brother. A real man knows when to go it alone and when to except a helpin

hand. Or at least that's what i've heard. Put your stuff in the back so we can get on with it

already."

I put my luggage in the back seat. I had to admire the interior. Looked like real expensive

leather from some European country. Why don't I get cool shit like this? Then again, all I really

cared about was the air conditioner. I swallowed my pride and took my spot in the passengers

seat. I'm sure i'll have the opportunity to get it back later.

"Thank god." said Jeane from the back seat. "I was worried this was one of those stories

that teases things that never actually happen." With a look somewhere between surprise and

skepticism, Henry turned to the back.

"Did.. Did that fuckin cat just talk?"

"Yup, and I don't feel like explaining it either." The weight of the shit Id gone through that

day was finally hitting me. All I could think about was the nap I needed. As I faded off I could

hear the roaring engine of the car. The last thing I could hear was the words of my brother.

A guy I still barley new, but could somehow tell I could trust with my life as I slept.

"Fair enough, brother. Fair enough."


End file.
